


When I'm Down

by alwaysastorm



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Formula One, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysastorm/pseuds/alwaysastorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written post-Valencia 2012 for Motorskink.</p>
<p>
  <i>Rob’s hand gripped onto his folder a little tighter as he heard the combined laughter of Felipe and Fernando coming from the other side of the garage.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I'm Down

Rob’s hand gripped onto his folder a little tighter as he heard the combined laughter of Felipe and Fernando coming from the other side of the garage. Glancing down at his hand, he saw that the knuckles were white; his nails digging into the battered brown leather of the clipboard.

He moved one side of his headphones away from his ear.

“Felipe!” he found himself clicking his fingers and gesturing towards the car. “You going to do any driving today or what?”

God, he hated when his voice sounded like that. A bit flustered; slightly strangled. He watched as Felipe gave Fernando a good-natured slap on the arm as he walked back to his side of the garage, a large grin on his face.

“Talking about the car, then?” Rob asked, that weird voice coming out of his mouth once more.

“The football.”

“Ah,” Rob nodded. _“Important stuff.”_

Felipe grinned again and Rob slowly exhaled as he motioned for the Brazilian to get into the car. Felipe never got his sarcasm. On days like today, maybe that was a good thing.

He told himself over and over that Felipe got along with every teammate he’d ever had. Hell, he’d even gotten along with Villeneuve. He also told himself that he shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t care if Fernando was talking Felipe up in the press; shouldn’t care if the two of them were always saying how well they worked together; shouldn’t care if they were to be found chatting and laughing together at the back of the garage.

He _shouldn’t_ care. But yet he did.

 

_“We have always stayed united”, “driver of his talent”_ , the words of Fernando went round and round in Rob’s head constantly. He knew Fernando. He’d worked with him. And he’d never known him to be so complimentary about a teammate. He certainly had never seen him swipe a baseball cap off a teammate’s head, swapping it with his own, and then imploring someone else to take a photo of the two of them. How _cute_.

 

It was completely normal for Felipe to congratulate Fernando so warmly after his Valencia win, Rob told himself repeatedly. Even though Felipe was pissed off with his own race, of course he was still going to approach his teammate for a handshake and okay, a hug. Felipe was just a tactile person, was all. Rob stood at the far end as the rest of the team huddled together for the group photo in the pitlane. He found himself smiling and laughing, putting on an act for his colleagues; all the while glancing sideways at Felipe standing directly behind Fernando. Was Felipe’s hand on Fernando’s shoulder? Were they pressed close together? Rob ran a hand through his hair, wanting to get back to the solitude of his hotel room. He was going mad. Nuts. He blamed the stressful season and the uncertainty over who’d be driving where next year. This was _not_ normal behaviour.

 

“Who were you texting?” Rob asked as he and Felipe got into the car. They’d been at Mugello all evening watching Italy’s Euro 2012 match. Rob hadn’t even been taking part in the kart race that had been going on, but when he’d heard Felipe would be going, he suggested that he tag along. He could keep Felipe company on the drive back from and to Maranello before they got back to work on the simulator the following day.

Felipe looked straight ahead at the autostrada as he replied.

“Fernando.”

“Oh.”

“About the match. We were all SMSing him.”

Rob eased back into the passenger seat and wound down the window a little.  
“Something wrong?” Felipe asked, taking his eyes off the road momentarily.

Rob gave a small shrug, his head turned to the side as he watched the Italian countryside fly past.

“Just the football?”

“What?” Felipe turned the radio down.

“Were you just texting him about the football?”

“Yes!”

“Nothing else? Not sharing a joke or I dunno, arranging to meet up or something?”

Rob squeezed his eyes shut. God, why was he being such a prick? He heard the clicking noise of the car’s indicators, and when he opened his eyes again, Felipe was changing down the gears, slowing down, and pulling into a layby. He looked at Felipe’s tanned, sinewy arm as he turned the wheel, his hand resting lightly on the top of the butter-smooth leather as he steered it expertly. 

“Rob, what the hell is up with you?” Felipe asked as the car came to a halt.

Rob felt his mood soften immediately and his heart lurch a little as he saw the concern in Felipe’s large brown eyes. Baseball cap still atop his head, and an old blue Ralph Lauren polo shirt on, he looked tired, but... but quite delicious, Rob thought. 

He shook his head and gave a wan smile.

“Nothing, mate. Nothing.”

Felipe wasn’t convinced. He raised an eyebrow and Rob felt that weird pang he always felt in his heart and his chest when he saw how one side of Felipe’s forehead became wrinkled, while the other side remained smooth, scarred.

“You didn’t sit with me when we were watching the football.”

“You were with Stefano. And busy texting Fernando, clearly.”

Argh! There it was again. That snarky tone. Felipe gave a long sigh and Rob knew he was close, dangerously close, to pissing Felipe off. It didn’t happen very often but when it did, he knew that Felipe could show flashes of temper as much as any fiery Latino. 

He looked at the clock on the dashboard.

“It’s getting late. We should probably get a move on and get back to Maranello. Simulator tomorrow, Felipe.”

Felipe looked in the rear view mirror, then out of his window. It was only just beginning to get dark, but they were partially secluded from the sparse amount of traffic by a hedge.

“It’s not so late,” Felipe replied, a wicked glint in his eye. Rob decided to ignore the fact that Felipe’s BlackBerry was bleeping to alert him of a new message - at that moment he didn’t care anyway as he watched Felipe lower his head down into his lap; his fingers working quickly to undo the button and zip on Rob’s jeans and free his cock from his boxers.

“You need to cheer up, you know?” Felipe said before wrapping his lips around the rapidly hardening head of Rob’s dick. Rob jerked his hips upwards and closed his eyes. His fingers gripped tightly onto each side of the car seat, and he suddenly found himself laughing out loud as he gave in to the exquisite sensation of Felipe sucking and licking him.

“Fucking idiot!” 

Rob had no idea if he was talking to Felipe or himself.

 

There was vodka. Or rather, there _had_ been. Rob’s hand was wrapped around the neck of a bottle of Absolut; the bitter taste doing nothing to help the sourness that he already felt inside himself. It had started well. A few beers with friends and family who had come to visit him at his home race. Some sociable drinks in Ferrari hospitality, then a few shots back at the hotel, and now, now he was draining the last drops from the vodka that had seemed like a brilliant idea an hour ago; his companions long since gone. But there were other people here now. Through a fug of booze, his eyes narrowed and he could see Felipe and Fernando at the other end of the bar, chatting. Felipe had his hand on Fernando’s back, while Fernando was leaning in close, whispering something in Felipe’s ear, before pulling away so the two of them could laugh softly together. Rob took a glug of vodka, wincing as he swallowed. Why were they talking? What were they talking about? Were they arranging to go back to one of their rooms together? Were they arranging to fuck? 

All weekend. All weekend, they’d been like this. Fernando going to Felipe’s side of the garage to chat during the red flag period in qualifying, then the mutual congratulations after that pole position, and then Felipe talking about Fernando in the post-race interviews. Well, fuck this! Rob staggered towards them, barging between the two drivers and poking Fernando squarely in the chest.

“Great race, mate. Great race.” He jabbed at Fernando. “You... YOU are something else.”

“Thank you,” the Spaniard said quietly, looking somewhat wary.

“Oh it wasn’t a compliment, _Fernando_.” He motioned to Felipe with his head, continuing to dig his index finger into Fernando’s flesh. “You trying to get Felipe to do something else that you want, huh? Like let you past on track again, or I dunno, bring him up to your room to... “

“Rob!” Felipe hissed, interrupting him before he went too far. “Come with me,” the Brazilian said through gritted teeth, holding onto his arm tightly and ushering him out of the bar. The hotel lobby was mercifully empty as Rob attempted to push Felipe away and make his way back inside towards Fernando. He felt Felipe’s hands on his shoulders in an attempt to stop him from moving. Rob tried to shrug himself out of his grip, but Felipe, despite his small stature, was strong.

“Rob, stop. STOP.” Felipe implored him. _“Think!”_

_‘Is he fucking you off the track as well as on it?’_ Rob wanted to scream out. The words whirled around his brain, desperately wanting to move into his mouth and escape from his lips. But to say that would break Felipe’s heart and almost certainly kill whatever they had. He didn’t even mean it; he knew how well Felipe had been driving recently - and today he’d been blinding. But he’d always been the same - once he got an inkling; an idea in his head, no matter how paranoid, he’d never been able to shake it.

“Just let me go,” he slurred.

“I will come with you.”

“No, Felipe. Just... just fuck off, okay?”

He felt Felipe’s grasp loosen, and the younger man took a step backwards, holding his hands up resignedly. Rob hated the hurt look in Felipe’s eyes; hated knowing that he’d been the one to cause that pain. He took another swig from the vodka bottle, hating how Felipe’s eyes darted from it to him, before the driver shook his head sadly.

“I don’t understand,” he said quietly. Rob shrugged again, letting the bottle drop to the floor with a smash.

 

He was stomping along the corridor, finding himself banging against the walls as he swayed drunkenly. He rummaged in his pocket for his room’s key card, only to drop it on the floor several times when he eventually retrieved it from the back pocket of his jeans. Bending down, the next thing he knew was white pain as he toppled over and hit his head on a chaise lounge in the hotel corridor.

 

Rob winced as he opened his eyes. Blinking slowly and wriggling his fingers, he realised he was lying on top of the bed, still fully clothed. It was daylight. He gave a groan and was about to shut his eyes again when in his fuzzy line of vision he realised someone was sitting on the end of the bed.

“And you said I am the one who cannot handle my drink, huh?”

Rob’s voice croaked as he replied to Felipe, who was looking at him and shaking his head. He looked as tired as Rob felt - though nowhere near as hungover.

“What the hell happened?” Rob felt a sharp pain in his temple, and reaching up, felt the sticky tightness of dried blood on his skin. God, the light in this room was hurting his eyes, his head, his entire body.

“You fell,” Felipe said abruptly. “You don’t remember?”

Rob made to shake his head, but that just made it hurt more.

“No. You been here all night?”

“Yes. You really don’t remember falling and me getting you back here?”

“No. Oh _Christ_ ,” Rob gave a grunt of pain as he managed to edge himself up so he was resting against the pillows. He was grateful to see a glass of water on the bedside table, and took a tentative sip, hoping he wouldn’t throw it back up immediately. As he drank, he noticed Felipe looking at him. 

“What is it?”

“You better not think I am going to be your nurse.” 

“How bad do I look?”

Felipe shrugged and Rob detected a distinct softening of his facial expressions and voice. If he’d done anything last night, at least Felipe still appeared to be speaking to him.

“You’ve cut your face and you have an eye that is black.” Felipe motioned to his own right eye.

Under normal circumstances, Rob would probably have made a flirty comment about Felipe kissing it better, but he sensed that’d be a step too far. Not to mention that he had a mouth like an ashtray and alcohol seeping out of his pores.

“I was drinking vodka, wasn’t I?”

Felipe nodded.

“And... the hotel bar. Fernando was in there?”

Another nod.

“So you _do_ remember then?” Felipe folded his arms.

“I’m getting there.”

Rob closed his eyes again and sighed as he rested his head back against the cold pillow. He covered his face with his arm. Blurry images appeared in his mind, and as they came into focus, he saw himself squaring up to an innocent Fernando aggressively; telling Felipe to fuck off; glugging back vodka like an arsehole.

“I’m sorry, mate.”

When he sheepishly opened his eyes again, Felipe was kneeling on the floor beside the bed, their faces level.

“What is wrong, Rob?”

Felipe’s large eyes were filled with worry. Just seeing him so concerned made Rob realise what a complete and total idiot he’d been.

“You - and him. I thought...”

He watched those brown eyes widen; puzzled.

“Him? _Fernando?_ ”

Rob gave a nod.

“You seemed to be... I mean, you and him...”

Suddenly Rob didn’t know what to say or what he’d thought. He inhaled.

“I was jealous. Okay? And I know that it was fucking stupid of me to feel like that, but I guess... I guess it’s just because I’m so fucking terrified of losing you.”

Felipe laid a hand on his chest, and Rob grabbed it, squeezing it tightly. He wanted to raise it to his lips but settled for pressing it against his heart. Somehow the contact helped to ease the ache in it.

“You won’t lose me, Rob,” Felipe said softly. Rob hoped he just wasn’t imagining the quiver in Felipe’s voice as he said that.

“But Felipe - what if... I mean, Ferrari, they...”

Felipe nodded, his face crinkling up in that telltale way it did when he was trying not to let emotion completely overtake him. Fuck, Rob loved him. He’d let the fear that they would be parted escalate and escalate until he didn’t know what the hell to think anymore.

“One of us had to mention the possibility,” Rob said quietly. “It’s been hanging over us for months. This not knowing - it’s killing me, Felipe.”

“And me.” Felipe leant in closer, resting his chin on Rob’s chest. Rob saw the shine of the tears in his eyes, and more than ever he just wished there was something he could do.

“If I go...” Felipe began.

“...it won’t change _anything_ ,” Rob answered.

They smiled at one another.


End file.
